Tuesday, November 8, 2011

I wake up at three in the morning with out the help of my phone alarm. I check it, as it was supposed to go off right before 3. Stupid. I set it for PM. I take my shower, and then Kell has hers. We leave the Motel 6 in Madison to go across the street to the Huntsville airport.
Everything checked in and ready to go, we begin our adventure. Then we get to Atlanta, where we have to wait for 2.5 hours to get on our next plane. Which we do, and begin our adventure again.
I notice a couple of things while flying. One is that people are eager to stand in a line. When boarding begins people jump up, just to wait like they're gonna get a premier seat. But they're not. They're getting the one that's on the ticket. No better, no worse. Same when getting off a plane. They jump up, only to wait for 10 minutes. We sit in our chair and wait patiently, comfortably.
I also notice the lady across the isle that on a 2.5 hour flight, she Mary Poppins a giant roast beef sandwich out of her purse. I chuckle at first, and then become jealous as I look at my peanuts vs her sammich.
We arrived in Cozumel at approx 1 pm, local time. It took a good 30 minutes to go through customs and dodge time share salesmen. I got my first beer of the week at the Margaritaville on the sidewalk outside the airport. That and a Margarita for kell cost $14.00.
We got on the van and were transported through downtown towards our resort, Sabor. Except that our driver took us to Aura. After some discussion, we discovered that we were upgraded to a much nicer resort, and a suite.

The room number was 1022, our wedding date.

In the fridge was an unlimited supply of Dos Equis, Coke, Diet Coke and Water.

The balcony had one of those huge out door bed/couch things.

Our view was a pool and the ocean. Sand came right up to the wall.
I decided to take a shower, as I had the funk of three different time zones, as well as two different airplanes. When I got out, Kell was standing with the room telephone, saying "its your mother". I answered "hello".
She immediately said "I don't mean to call you on your honeymoon, but why is your cell phone off?"
"I meant not to be called on it whilst I am in paradise. Plus, roaming."
She nervously told me of an impending hurricane that was going to sit on my head and wreck our honeymoon. I told her that I had checked the weather, and I suspect nothing more than thunderstorms. I said that I would keep my phone on, and a close watch on the weather. We immediately went to the bar.
There were two drunk chaps that were hard to peg down where in the States they were from. From what I could gather, they were in on a cruise ship. Their wives had gotten to the puking stage of drunk, so they went back to the boat, while these guys decided to stay and drink some more. They were talking to an older guy, maybe in his mid 50s. I heard him say something about Arkansas Football, and I recognized my in with him to have a conversation as well.
When the cruise ship drunks stumbled away, I said "did I hear you say you are a fan of Arkansas?" A nice compliment about his team, and a few drinks later, we were friends.
Kell and I had a nice dinner, and turned in semi early, as the early morning traveling had finally caught up with us.
I awoke before 5 the next morning. Grabbed the iPad and checked the weather. Storm headed our way, but looked like it could be a hurricane, still wasn't convinced. I talked to my mother, and she suggested leaving the island before it got to us on Wednesday. By 10 that morning I was frustrated with the possible weather scenario and rapid fire texts, I proposed we see if we could go somewhere else. New Orleans, Denver & Baltimore all became options. We finally said "lets just go home." My mom changed our flight to be out on Thursday, which seemed odd, as that was when the hurricane was supposed to be there. We opted to do our best to make the most of it, which was admittedly difficult when you're uncertain if you are making the best decision. We went for drinks, and saw our new friends throughout the day. I checked the weather a few more times, the word "Hurricane" disappeared from weather.com's forecast. Now, only storms, like I had said. We continued to have drinks, and eat through the day. Its pretty easy to do, when there are multiple bars and restaurants within 30 seconds of your door. We got kind of hammered that night at a swank little bar downstairs. They had some really good booze.
I awoke again Wednesday morning, and walked over to grab the iPad to check the weather. I caught a glimpse of the sunlight peaking through the curtains. I stepped outside, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Which was odd for what was supposed to be hurricane style weather that evening. Kell and I went through the same routine as the day before. Drink, eat, repeat.
We came back up to the room, to change clothes, or to shit. I don't remember which one. The phone rang. I expected it to be my mother. Instead, was a mexican guy on the other end, letting me know of the impending ocean weather of doom that was to descend upon us, and we had the option of staying with the possibility of evacuation, or evacuate now. We chose the "fuck it, lets stay, and ride this thing out" option. We figured the walls are 1.5 feet thick, we've got water & Dos Equis. WE ARE GOOD.
So, Kell and I headed downstairs to continue our day, and told the front desk that we had decided that we were not only staying, that we were gonna surf that storm when it rolled in. Actually, we just told them the first part. We ran into our friends, and they said they had decided to do the same. We got a few margaritas and enjoyed a meal. We ran back into our friends who had their luggage by the front counter. They said they were going to a hotel in the city. I got a little nervous, as I liked it when there was a pack of us that could be shuffled around, but wasn't too hot on just Kell and I having to move from place to place.
We talked to the travel guy, and he suggested that he book us the same place, and we not check out of our current room, that way if nothing happens, we come back with ease.
He booked the room, and we all four got a taxi into downtown Cozumel.
I've been to the bad parts of town before. And this looked like the bad part of town. But its hard to tell, as from what I've been told that some of the nicer parts of Mexico all look like the bad part of town. The hotel was nice enough, and had a grocery store and other shops nearby. Plus there was always a cop at the corner. At least he looked like a cop...but he was riding a dirt bike.
Steve, and his wife walked with Kell and I to the grocery store to pick up some hurricane survival items, like cold beers, a flashlight and stuff to make ham sandwiches. When we finished shopping we opted to find a local restaurant to have some late afternoon lunch at. The lady at the front counter suggested this place pretty close to the town center. It was a pretty cool open air joint. They had cold beer and hot fajitas. And both were awesome.
After our meal, we walked and shopped for a bit. I noticed only light cloud coverage.
The salesmen in the shops were getting too aggressive for my tastes, so we decided to walk back to the room. I noticed the wireless router attached to the wall right outside the room, and asked for the password at the front desk. I immediately got online, and checked the weather. Still headed right for us, still looking like a storm.
As the sun went down, people started boarding up their windows on their shops. Maybe they knew something that I or weather.com were unaware of.
We sat in our room for most of the evening, wondering what would become of the storm. I began to question my decisions. Should we have tried to fly out on Tuesday? I got an email that said our flight had been delayed to Saturday. We weren't for sure if that was a good thing, or bad.
That night, all of the people from our resort that had decided to come into town were in the lobby. Everyone was playing cards, drinking wine and beer, and generally having fun. I went back to the room to get Kell and a couple of beers. We hung out for a while, and then decided to go to bed. I slept in my shorts with my passport and my wallet in my zipped pocket.
The next morning was really just kind of cloudy. We tried to see if we could get back into our resort, and they said that they were not letting anyone back in, until the storm passed. I was upset that we were going to be there for another day. As the day progressed, rain begun to fall. Then more and more. But no high winds, until maybe 6 or 7. I walked out front to see what the weather looked like through the front door, and saw that the street was beginning to flood. I got nervous and began to think about what would happen if the government decided to evacuate the island. The storm sat on top of us for a while, but while it was there, it dropped a metric ton of rain. So much so, that it had completely covered the street, and was coming over the sidewalk. I quickly noted how high the first floor was above the sidewalk and felt a little more calm about the situation. As the storm finally passed over us, the water quickly flowed away. The street was visible within an hour.
The next morning I woke up early and texted my mother to have her call the resort to see if we could come back. We got the word that yes, we could. I alerted our friends. We checked out so fast there were us shaped holes in the front door.
It felt good to get back to our resort. It felt like we survived some sort of rich American nightmare. We're not rich, but compared to what I saw, I certainly felt like it.
We got our arm bands back, and got our luggage upstairs. They had taken the televisions down, and put the mattress against the balcony windows in case they couldn't take the winds. When we came back down, the people at the front desk told us that not all the restaurants are open yet, but we could go over to this one that overlooked a pool. We jumped on it.
Its as if they knew that we had gone through some sort of ordeal, as the bar was already open at 10am. I got a round of screwdrivers. I think they used some sort of half and half or something. They were so delicious, I drank them for a few hours later throughout the entire day.
I was sad that we were having fun again, and the weather looked so awesome. I let my mother know that everything was ok. She got our flight moved back to Sunday, and got us comped two extra nights at the resort. So, we decided to full on relax. Or get drunk. Maybe both.
After eating lunch, we got dressed in some swimming gear and went to the fun pool where there were waterslides built into the landscaping. I went down probably 50 times, having drinks in between each trip. Then, I went up the waterslide. Which may be against the rules, but who cares. I got straight chocolate wasted at that poolside bar. That night, Kell and I went to dinner, at one of the nicer restaurants. I was completely wasted, and don't remember what I had to eat. She said that I compose myself pretty well, as she couldn't tell that I was schockered.
Saturday morning came, and I finally was able to sleep till about 8 that morning. Which was nice. We had breakfast at the same place we had been going, I think Kell probably ordered the steak and eggs again, as that was probably her favorite thing that she had eaten.
We hung out just on the beach all day. Much to my surprise when a waiter came out to our chairs and asked if we would like more Margaritas. He was correct then, and about ten times more while we were out there.
We went to the roof and met back up with our evac buddies, and hung out at the bar, and admired the sunset.

We promised some folks that we would go to the karaoke bar, but never made it.
That night we went out to dinner again, and I remembered the steak this time. Super thick and super rare. Also, the fried cheese thing. Pure, unadulterated awesomeness.
We got up the next morning, and got our gear together for our trip home. I was not looking forward to it, as i could have stayed at the resort for a whole other week or month. Maybe the rest of my life.
We decided to go have one last breakfast. We were fortunate to see the friends that we had made one last time, and after our respective meals, wished each other well in our future endeavors, and safe trips home.
Kell and I checked out and headed towards the airport. We made it through security with little to problem, save the Mexicali soldier that was eyefucking the shit out of me. There was a really awesome souvenir shop in the airport where we got some Mexican swag. Then we sat and waited for the plane to get ready.
When on the plane, I noticed a couple bickering about who got to sit next to the window on the way down. When the argument was finished, the husband reached over his wife and shut the blind on the window. I laughed to myself. We took off from Cozumel International Airport, and headed to Atlanta.
Two and a half to three hours and two timezones later, we touched down in Atlanta. With little more than an hour to go through customs and find something to eat, we settled on Popeyes chicken. With some Henderson charm, I was able to earn us some extra chicken at no extra price.
We left Atlanta to Huntsville at 7:45. I had never flown at night, well starting out at night. I have a bit of a problem with heights, but never with flying. We were sitting right on the wing. As we went higher, and the lights got smaller, I freaked out a little. Then part of the wing went into another part of the wing. And I freaked out some more. I thought "THERE ARE TOO MANY MOVING PARTS! WHY ARE WE FLYING AT NIGHT, NO ONE CAN SEE WHERE THEY ARE GOING!!!! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!" And that's where I had a 45 minute long, but silent panic attack. I squeezed my fingers' impressions into the metal armrest, and Kelly's hand, as she reassured me that it was going to be OK. I just kept thinking "I want off this gotdamned thing...why didn't we just drive from Atlanta to Huntsville..." Then, everytime some fatass got up to go to the restroom, I could feel the vibrations through the plane, thinkin "SIT THE FUCK DOWN! YOU AND YOUR BOWELS ARE GOING TO TAKE THIS FUCKER DOWN!"
Needless to say, we safely landed in Huntsville, and much to my surprise, I wasn't escorted off by air marshals.
When we got back to Florence, we went to go eat at On the Rocks, and for the first time in existence that I've been there after 5pm, I order a water to drink instead of a beer.
That night as I lay in my bed, with Kell squarely taking up half, June and Angus taking 20% each, and I laying on my 10%, I think to myself that despite there not being a free bar and or restaurant next door, it sure is good to be back home.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Because I forgot to do this on Tuesday.
Today's track is Man of the Hour by Pearl Jam from the "Big Fish" soundtrack.

I waited through the whole movie to hear the song where it would get played. Didn't happen until the credits.
The song didn't have a huge impact on me until my friend died. Then it was like I couldn't not play it. It seemed to be on rotate for about a week straight.

Now its taking on a new meaning. Come October 22nd, I'll be walking that isle to a Cello/Violin duet version. It took Kell quite some time convincing me that I could use this song for something other than remembering my friend's death. I'm glad she did.

Friday, August 26, 2011

I've started to write this blog about 10 times now, but continually back out. I'm not entirely for sure why. Maybe I'm not enjoying the beats its taking, or it feels pretentious or something. Well, today...I'm writing it.

I keep reading "30 is the new 25" or "40 is the new 30" Thank Christ, because I'm taking my sweet ass time in age.

I've taken a while longer to grow up than most people I know. When I say "grow up", I'm not talking mature. I've felt since a young age that I was fairly mature. I mean, I still make dick and fart jokes. But taking care of business...that sort of thing. The growing up I'm talking about is more along the lines of getting married, having kids, buying a house. But do those things even really constitute being a grown up? I see television shows where people are getting married, and having kids while in High School. They seem to be about as mature as middle school child.

And its not like I'm against marriage or having kids...or buying a house even. I'm getting married in October. Its just that...I didn't see the point of rushing in, like 99% of my fellow graduating class did. I feel like I've been able to experience so much more, that if I had gotten married, or saddled with children at an early age. Would have I been able to go to Mardi Gras for the first time? What about bar hopping in downtown Nashville? Going out of town on a whim? Meeting people that I consider life long friends?

Now, I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with getting married, or having children right out of High School. A lot of people seem to be perfectly happy in those decisions. But I also see quite a few folks who are miserable, or have since divorced.

All this makes me believe, that despite what my mother has told me, that maybe...just maybe...I was on the right track. She used to tell me "if you are single now, then all your friends (from HS) who are getting married and having kids will be more free when its time to retire to do fun things while, you'll be behind them."
Which made no sense. Why would I want to wait to retirement to enjoy my youth?

Does getting married make me feel like I won't be able to still do all the awesome things I did when I was single? Absolutely not. I'll have someone to do those things with. I'm absolutely happy that I waited to become a grown up.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Why this song? Well, this is from the first rock and roll album I ever bought, the "Who Made Who" album, which doubled as a soundtrack to Maximum Overdrive.
I was raised on Country, a little southern rock, and easy listening. I made friends with a kid who listened to Ozzy, Metallica, AC/DC and others. I spent the night at his house, and listened to Hard Rock/Metal all night. I changed right there. The next day, I got my mom to take me to the mall, and I bought "Who Made Who" on cassette. There was no significance behind why I chose this album. I loved the way AC/DC sounded, and this one was on sale, I want to say like five dollars.
I never looked back.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Every Tuesday, I'm going to start posting a video of a song, and discuss what that track means to me. Not necessarily what the song means, but what it makes me feel, and what memories it may bring back. Today's inaugural post is Pearl Jam covering Mother Love Bone's Crown of Thorns.

This song gets me two fold. 1. Its being played by my favorite band. 2. I've loved this song every since I first heard it back in 91-92, just pulls me right back to playing it on repeat over and over again. Its one of those, that no matter how many times I hear it, I'm constantly surprised at how good it is. .
It was on the Singles soundtrack, where I first heard it. I knew who Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Hendrix & a few others were, but there was this one song called Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns by Mother Love Bone, that I fell in love with. Then, come to find out a couple of members of Pearl Jam had come from MLB, well that was just icing on the cake.
That was a great period for me, as I was figuring out who I was, and who I wanted to be. That movie, its soundtrack, the music of the period...I guess it opened up a whole new world to me, that was outside of the small Alabama community that I was growing up in. I guess you can say that about any area that provides a great deal of good musicians, like New York or L.A. But my attention was laser focused on Seattle and what was coming out of that city. I wanted to live there. I mean, really live there. I wanted to live in the same apartment complex, go to the same coffee shops. There's an alternate universe where at the age of 18, I packed my car, drove out there, and probably never came back.
Hope you enjoy it. If not, well then I'm sad for you.

Friday, July 15, 2011

My brother said something the other day that I've been thinking quite a bit about lately. "Damn, you're cheap"
It was in reference to that I very rarely update car tags. I don't generally care to stand in line and pay 50 dollars for that nonsense. I once drove a car with tags that were four years and one state out of date.
But it really made me look at other things, and wonder "am I really cheap?"
I buy bottom shelf whiskey that comes in a green label. When I buy beers, they're usually Natural Light or Miller High Life. Not for hipster or ironic reasons, but because I think they taste good, and are inexpensive.
I shop for clothes in the clearance section at Target. Sometimes the gap.
I turn off lights and shut off rooms that don't need air conditioning.
I wear clothes and shoes until they're destroyed.
I bought my bicycle from a pawn shop.
I've started to cut my own hair.
I buy sunglasses from the gas station or a street vendor.
I've got a non smart cell phone. The outside is messed up, so I put a van's sticker on it.
I never pay full price for video games. As i trade in, and get great deals (L.A. Noire for $8 dollars)
So, am I cheap, or just thrifty?

Thursday, June 23, 2011

I. Love. Diet. Dr. Pepper. Love it. In a can, bottle or preferably from a fountain. I love it mixed with whiskey or rum. I love it when my throat feels clogged in the morning.
What I do not love, are businesses that sell regular Dr. Pepper, and not its superior Diet counterpart.
Walmart is the latest to fall to the "regular only" businesses. My only pleasure in going to Walmart, was at the end of shopping, there were ice cold Diet Dr. Peppers waiting to be purchased and then drank by me. Now, they're gone. Seemingly replaced by Fanta. WHAT THE FUCK IS A FANTA?
I run into this at every restaurant that is not Chic-Fil-A or McDonalds. "Do you guys have Diet Dr. Pepper?"
And they will always give one of three responses. 1. No, we have Diet. Coke (which is an ok substitute in a pinch.) 2. No, we have Diet Pepsi. I would rather get punched in the head of my dick, than drink Diet Pepsi. Then, 3. No, but we have regular Dr. Pepper. Which is the worst response. Because I clearly wanted Diet. They clearly are able to order Dr. Pepper products, but purposefully chose not to. Oh, they'll carry Fanta's, and whatever the Pepsi knock off of Sprite is. Or fucking Root Beer. But in their myriad of choices that include Dr. Pepper, its Diet alternative is left off. Why? I would be willing to wager that more people drink Diet Dr. Pepper than Fanta. Or Diet Fucking Pepsi.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Its hard to sit back, and know that you want to take the highroad, when you're constantly getting run down for no reason. Whenever you're not around, stories get twisted, comments made, lies told. You decide not to lower yourself, saying their time will come. Something will happen to bring them down. Down to a level you've never sunk to before. Something that will open eyes. See where the truth lies.

This dear readers has been a long frustrating road. One that's seen tears, and anger. But stayed anger with fake smiles.

The mighty have fallen. They have been exposed. And I didn't have to do anything. I took the high road. They destroyed themselves.

Finally, I know that the lies, the twisted stories, the forked tongue comments have been silenced, as there's no way in hell they'll be believed ever again.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Its 8:43 a.m., and Duhbbs has already disappeared from sight twice. Note to self; may need to get her a collar with a bell on it.

Seeing as how Pandora and Last.FM have not pleased me with their music choices for me, I've had to bring in a ringer, my iPod.

Why is it OK for men to be shirtless and have nipples about, but not women? Balls and Vagajiz, I get, but someone can get away with the whole boob exposed, save for the nipple. That's just dumb.

What is it about superglue that anytime I use it, I get about 1/2 the tube on my hands? Its like I have an extra layer of skin that I could grab a hot iron with right now. I had to use the superglue, because my new bicycle mount for my iPod has a design flaw in it. When i hit the first major bump on my way to work, both the mount and the iPod went sailing. Not sure why it was designed like this. Its built so the mount is secure to the bike, but you can clip part of it off to carry this cumbersome ass piece around. That just doesn't make the least bit of sense. Hopefully the superglue is working its magic.

Forgot that I was listening to a Nerdist podcast on my way to work this morning. If I stop it now, I'll have to restart it later. Fuck it, I'll go back to you Pandora...for now.

Superglue is starting to peel off my hands. I feel like a leper.

Its now Friday, and no mention from my parents about Church on Sunday. And I've talked to them multiple times this week...have I succeeded in my mission?

Thank Christ the lady who was supposed to be off today, decided to come on in. I don't know how I would have handled working with Duhbbs all day long by myself. I probably would have to call the ABC store for a delivery.

Decided to do a character sketch of Duhbbs. I'll post it later.

I think I'm gonna buy a Jug O Rum from the ABC store tonight. The weather's getting nice. Means its time to stray from the Whiskey a little bit. Maybe I'll carry it with me kayaking, and I can feel like a pirate.

I'm so very pleased with myself for mowing the grass yesterday. Now I can do no chores this weekend. Save for cleaning the house.

That's what I deal with 5 days out of my week. Pure, unbridled Hell on two legs.

Pandora's got their shit together today. You get a second chance then, music program.

The weather is awesome today. I think I may just drink on the front porch after work. Listen to some podcasts, and drunk Twitter. Drunk Twittering is awesome, as its like a ongoing report of how drunk you are. (which, you can follow me @jamofpearls). And don't message me about how its called "Tweeting" I refuse to call it that.

I had someone get...I don't want to say mad, necessarily...frustrated may be a better word for it. The reason: I didn't want to start a weekly poker night. (It probably didn't help that last week, I told his wife that I didn't want to go to a drive-in movie, as I'm kind of a movie snob. Not in the type of movies that I like to watch, mind you, just how I watch them. As in Dolby Digital Surround, Played on DLP Screens. Not on some sheet, strung up in someone's backyard, while music plays through the speakers of your car.) I don't care for card games, or most board games. I don't like remembering all the rules, and it usually gets in the way of my getting drunk on a Friday or Saturday night. Also, I don't understand why you need a reason to get together to hang out. Why can't we hang out and talk? I think some people have an idea of what married, couples or people over thirty are supposed to do together.

I feel like I've never really fit into those predetermined molds. While everyone else I grew up with was getting married, and having kids, I was moving to Nashville, meeting new people, and going out to bars. Even now, while those kids are older, and these folks have completely settled into their lives, I feel like I'm still exploring. Not new girl options, mind you, as I'm with Kell fohevahs. I'm not saying that I'm immature, by any stretch of the imagination. I pay my bills on time. I don't do anything really wrong. But I do like to do things when I want to.

Enough of that for now.

I love internet shopping. I think its because I love getting packages in the mail. Or tracking them. Something about it is def more fun that physically going to the store. Maybe its the gamble of whether it will be like you saw it online.

I wish I were friends with Bill Murray. I feel like we would get along. Not in a creepy fan way, but in a for real, just talking, joking, hanging around type of way. Note to self; do not stalk Bill Murray.

Why can't it be socially accepted to pick your nose? I feel this needs to be changed. If you eat your buggers, then you need to be sent to the electric chair.

Lunch Time.

2:11 What about Johnny Cash makes him feel like he's my Grandfather. I don't know what it is, but I look at a picture of him, or listen to a song of his, and I immediately feel like this guy has taken me fishing or given me a pocket knife. Grandfather type stuff.

Just look at him. Wouldn't you love to get life lessons from that guy?

Showed my above illustration to a co-worker. He loved it.

Pandora, you've lost your job. iPod, you're up.

Ice cream was a bad idea. Its called a Jihad against the taco soup I had for lunch.

Starting to get sleepy. I think its the temp. I could straight up nap for an hour right now.

What is it about certain bands that just feel like a certain season. Counting Crows sound like late fall, early winter. The Grateful Dead sound like late spring, early summer. AC/DC feels like summer. Pearl Jam is the only one I don't really get a season bead on. Its like some of their stuff feels like fall, some like summer, some like fall & of course some like winter. Pretty much any punk band feels like summer to me. Maybe it has something to do with when their albums were released. Weird.

I hate everyone that has a four door wrangler. They are literally the only people on the planet that I'm jealous of.

Need to relocate my Verucca Salt 8 arms to hold you album, see if it still holds up from college days.

Looking over the blog.

Yep, that looks good for now. Maybe some more later.

And now is later. Mom asked about Easter, but eating...not Church going...Shit then she totally asked about church going. I mumbled something about folks coming in from out of town fused with a kayak trip. I think it worked. She did manage to trick me in to asking Kell to bring a cheesecake. She's a crafty one, that mom.
This rum is tasting gooooooood.
I may need to sober up a lil bit. Maybe eat a sammich.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I used to be pretty damned skinny all through High School, college, post college and being single years. I ate horrible food, and drank All. The. Time.

When Kell and I started dating, I weighed in right at 180. Which really isn't bad for my height. And I kept that weight for the most part, but then Kell got laid off, and during this period, starting watching Food Network. And we moved from our downtown place, to a regular house, which meant no more stairs, or walking to work. Which meant, the weight I was keeping off began to pack on my ass. I ballooned right on up to about 240.

I finally decided enough was enough, and decided to start loosing weight. But not by actually going to a gym, consulting anybody, or watching videos or any smart way. I pretty much winged it.

I drank beer non stop when I drank, always Natural Light. Its cheap, and tastes awesome. I love carbonation. If it were a drinking night, I could pound beers non stop. Cause they're so delicious, and go down with ease. But them mutherfuckers have calories out the ass. So, my first step was to stop drinking (beers all the time).

But quiting alcohol wasn't going to happen, because I'm actually pretty good at drinking. People tell me that they have a hard time telling when I'm drunk. The key is if I ask the same question over and over again.

So I decided to start drinking whiskey and diets. "But Michael, whiskey has sugar and calories, and blah blah blah" Shut it. This is why its different. I don't slam whiskey drinks like Hulk Hogan slams Iraqi Sympathizers. I sip whiskey drinks. For every three whiskey drinks, I would have knocked out at least 6 beers. Also, don't eat on friday nights, just start drinking as soon as you get home.

+

=

Then weigh your self on saturday morning. You'll be surprised what the scale says.

So, I immediately started dropping pounds that way. Which got me down to about 225-220.

I shaved off my super thick beard which was probably good for a pound or two.

For the next part, I started lifting a few weights. Once again, my way. I didn't go and buy expensive weight sets. I found the bar, and some weights when we moved in, and used those. And was given a few more. I maybe spent 15 dollars on fitness equipment. Then, I started drinking more water, like lots of water. That got me down to around 200.

We also bought Kayaks, which probably helps too. Not the actual buying them, but using them on the weekend.

My next component to loosing weight was to start riding a bike to and from work. But i didn't have a bike. And those fuckers be exspansive. So I went to a pawn shop. Bought one for 30 dollars.

You may say "Why not run everyday?" Because fuck running, that's why. But now i'm down to 195.

I also suggest intense video game sessions, you won't believe how much you sweat when shit gets real playing online.

So I'm only 15 pounds away from my goal of 180. Which isn't too bad, considering I haven't listened to any professional, or done anything crazy strenuous.

Which brings me to my next point. If you would like to loose weight, but are having a hard time, send me a check for $100.00, and I'll put you on a program of beard shaving, video games, whiskey drinking, kayaking, and riding a bike to work. Its worked for me, and it will work for you.*

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Here's how Saturday ran down for me.
6:30 in the morning, my dad calls "Hey, breakfast at 7:30, that OK?"
We go and meet dad, one of my brothers, and one of my sisters for breakfast. Then, afterwards go to Mom and Dad's house for a little while. Leave. Run errands. Come back to the house. Sleep till about 2. Get up. Drink a beer. Then another. Get texts back and forth from April about what to do. Finally call her. Meet at On The Rocks at about nine. Kell and I agree that we won't go out that long, just hang at OTR for a bit, and then come home. Well, April and Kim are running a few minutes behind. I power down a few more beers. They arrive. I drink a few more beers.
They suggest we go to DP's. We agree. Kell and I get in April's car, and we head across the river.
I move on to whiskey and diets, as Nan makes them pretty killer, and they're dirt cheap.
I start to get drunk, and text/tweet Sarah Colonna like we're friends.
I suggest we go to a country bar to ride the mechanical bull, and maybe just hit up this other bar for Karaoke. The mechanical bull bar costs extra at the door, so we choose the karaoke dive also known as Mr. Norm's.
They sell Natural Light. Which I love.
and then this happens...

I bust out "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC, and kick all sorts of ass.

And the night continues on, and we get some of these pics going...

And I'm really beginning to forget my own name.

Someone suggests we go to the all night diner known as Tourway. Sure I ate dinner already, but fuck it.

This is the last known photo of me from that evening, before I woke up in my bed on Sunday morning wearing about 1/2 of what I went out in. Which would be a pic of me with a flower from the table.

Had an awesome time though, for what I remember. No one parties like thirtysomethings party.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Its 12:24 on Friday. Pandora is playing grunge, or at least its supposed to, but for some reason Blink 182 is playing. I click on the "thumbs down", pandora apologizes, and tells me it will find something else that I will like. It plays Incubus. Fuck. "thumbs down." Blind Melon. I won't "thumbs up", but I won't fast forward either.

I keep trying to write a new blog, but keep deleting it. I think it comes off as pretentious. And that's not the way I'm wanting it to sound.

The rain won't quit today.

Due to slow business, we're cutting back on some employees hours. Marvin will no longer come in on Fridays. And Marie is taking off next Friday. Which means I'll be stuck with Duhbbs all day long. I'll have to do my best not to murder her. She makes it difficult not to do sometimes. Maybe I'll just slug her. I can't go to jail for that, right?

I'm digging this new gray polo from the gap. Fits well. Don't mind shopping there when I can get polos for 8 dollars. It works well with my jeans, and vans. Which I need more of. Vans that is. I can never have enough. I would have had a nice collection, had my dog not eaten three pair of them.

That damned printer keeps making noise. I swear after the last lightning strike, it started cleaning itself. Presumably because it shit itself. I imagine if lighting is mildly frightening to us, it must be pants shitting scary for electronics.

Pandora plays Hootie and the Blowfish. Is there a "fuck no" option? Damn. "thumbs down"

My friend Nicole messages me to ask about another friend that we haven't seen in years. I can't remember the last time I've seen her. Heard rumors a few years back of her being in an asylum, or something to that effect. Doesn't every class have someone like that, who just disappears?

Kell will be here soon, and we can eat lunch. Which is good, because I'm eye fucking that Snickers bar on my desk right now. Don't need to be caught with a candybar on my dick though. Not again.

I hear that when you dream of a house, its represents your brain, then why is mine a rundown downtown place, populated with college age folks that I don't know?

12:39. Take a break.

Pandora, you've obviously forgotten what 90s grunge is.

1:19. Still Raining. My yard is probably a swamp right now. No front porch drinking after work. It will have to be on the couch. Hopefully I've got enough whiskey to make it through the night, as I don't care to hit up the liquor store for more Evan Williams Green Label.

I don't care how cheap it is. Its tasty when mixed with Diet Dr. Pepper.

Posted a bunch of pics on facebook that most are well over 10 years old. Not really feeling nastalgic or anything. Just thought it would be fun to tag and see who responds. They also make a nice trace of years from about the age of 15-22. I titled it Old Friends, New Friends and Even a Bear, after the Cleveland Show theme song. Funny thing is, the "Even a Bear" technically works in one pic.

Its too bad that Gavin Rossdale couldn't actually write songs that made any sense, as they had a rockin sound.

I guess I can finish reading "A Zombie's History of the United States of America" and that David Sedaris book this weekend.

I need some new websites to visit. There's like a grand total of 5 that I frequent. I need a good comedy blog to read.

I wish I could have a mohawk here at my office. I think I could still rock that at 32.

The Snickers and left over Mexican food are starting to argue. Could be violent.

Shortlist of Celebrities I would like to hang out with. The cast of Mythbusters, & American Pickers. Sarah Colonna, Whitney Cummings, Jon Stewart, Stone Cold Steve Austin. I think that would make for a fun party.

I want to do a late night Kayak Run. Think that would be really fun by moon light. Must be mindful of creek ghosts.

What is it about stickers? I'm like a little girl with them. Bands, Vans and Outdoor brands are my favorite. I put them on everything. My Jeep. Kell's Jeep. My Kayak, my cell phone, my office window. Don't know why. Its free advertising for someone else. Its not like pearl jam has a sticker on their cars with my face on it. Although, that would fun. Maybe I should send Eddie a sticker with me on it, giving thumbs up. I wonder what's the creepy factor there.

So far, so good. I haven't been told about Church on Easter Sunday, yet. Which means I can claim "plausible deniability" to Mom and Dad come Sunday afternoon. "OOOOOOHHHH, that was this Sunday?" Which they won't buy for a second. Makes me feel better though.

Tomorrow is the third saturday of the month, which means I go eat with dad for a few minutes at breakfast. I like to do it, as its the only thing I really get to do with him. Downside is that I have to get up at like 6 to go. Which can be hard to do after drinking all night.

And at 2:18 I think that's a good place to quit for now. Probably pick back up later after I've had a few glasses of Whiskey & Diet.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Its been a while since we got back from our Mardi Gras trip. I think I can still recount much of what happened.

Kell and I arrived in town earlier than what I thought, and was greeted by a flat out awesome smell of coffee. We parked the Jeep at the nearby parking deck, and proceeded to try to find the Hotel to check in. Which we should have done before unloading said Jeep, and walking down the street with suitcases, four bottles of liquor and other items in tow. But no problem, as the hotel was right down the block. Checked in, and admired the size of our room. Like really admired it, especially seeing as how large it was for the price I paid during the Mardi Gras period. Hotels.com FTW!

We jumped right into having fun, as Kell had brought our Fat Tuesdays drink holders from our last trip two Halloweens ago. I filled mine with Rum and Diet Dr. Pepper, and Kell did her's with Rum and Coke Zero. Hit the streets and began to have fun. We opted first to head up to Bourbon, just to see how far we would be, for walking distance. Turned out, not to far at all, only about three blocks.

There were people already out and about having fun. Which I began to grin from ear to ear, as I knew it was fuckin on.

We got 190 Octanes, walked around some more, and eventually decided to go get some dinner. We stopped in at this pizza place that we loved the last time we were in town. And thankfully it was still open. French Quarter Pizzaria & Bar I believe its called.

After dinner, went back out into the quarter for some drankin and celebration. My memory is a little hazy, but I do know my hip was hurting real bad from driving all day, so we had to walk back to the room around 11.

At some point, I passed out.

At some point later, I got up to go to the restroom.

At some point again later, I woke Kell up trying to get back into the room, explaining that I was trying to find the restroom. Here's where things get interesting. Kell was out cold. And I don't remember a gotdamned thing. So as far as both of us know, on one end of the spectrum, I could have opened the door to the hotel room, and turned around, and got myself back in, all in the span of a minute. Or...I could have opened the door, pissed in the hallway, elevator, lobby...anywhere but my toilet, and made my way back to the room. Or worst case scenario, where I normally operate in, I got up, went to locate the restroom, walked out of the hotel room instead, decided "fuck it" went down to the lobby, out to the street, and partied some more before wandering back. Either one of those could have happened.

The next day we woke up, and Kell recounted to me waking her up in the middle of the night trying to get back into the room.

We walked down to Cafe Beignet's to get some breahfus. Everything they served came with fuckin eggs. I hate eggs. But they were nice enough to give me extra grits and bacon.

Kell and I ate and walked around some more. I began to debate on just how early is too early to start drinking on a saturday.

We had planned on eating at this place called Johnny PoBoys' for lunch, but it was uber packed, so we opted to go to Pierre Masperos. I got a crawfish poboy and a gigantor beer. Kell got a roast beef poboy and a beer as well.

We both decided a nap was in order, as I'm a punk bitch, and love my naps. I woke up, and started in on drinking again. More rum and diets. We got dressed, and got some more 190s. Did a bit of shopping, and came back to the room to drop our stuff off.

Drank some more.

Then went to the front of our place to see the parade. Which was really fun, as Kell and I caught a metric ton of beads. We caught so much shit, we were passing it on to other people. We both didn't feel like trying to find some new place to eat, so we went back to the French Quarter pizza place, and knocked out a meal there.

We had decided early on that we were determined to sing Karaoke while we were in town, so we went to find the Cat's Meow, which is not a stripper karaoke bar, like the name suggests.

I sang, she sang, I nearly punched a guy.

We left, and got some more 190s.

Then walked a little further, stopped for Kell to get some lipgloss, and she then realized all the zippers on her purse was open, and her wallet was no longer there.

After a mild freak out, we walked back to the daiquiri bar, and they hadn't seen the wallet, which was unfortunate, because it was the last place it had been used.

We knew that it had been stolen. We started walking back towards the room, and I spotted two cops, and we told them what went down.

Then it began to hit us. I let out a growl and punched a marble wall. My knuckles are still hurting from that bad decision. We knew that our trip was going to be cut short.

Got back to the room, and Kell spent the better part of two hours calling banks and credit card companies.

The next morning, we got up and checked out. Then it dawned on us that we had our parking ticket for the parking deck in her wallet. Which really sucked when we saw the sign that said "MISSING TICKETS - $20"

FAAAAAAAAAHHHHQ!

I explained to the lady working the toll both what had happened, hoping that we would just get the charge of 30 dollars a night for both the nights we were there, and not the additional 20. She talked to someone on her radio and then waved us on, saying don't worry about it. We thanked her, and drove on.

Down at the exit was a plain clothes police officer who stopped to talk to us, and said "so you guys got picked?" We told him yeah, and what happened. He apologized, and we drove on home.

I sucked really bad having to deal with the stolen wallet, and cutting our trip short, but I would go back in a hot minute. I really love hanging out down there.

Friday, April 8, 2011

1. Beach pictures where everyone is dressed the same. Especially white tops with khaki shorts.
Everyone seems to do this for some reason. I'm not even clear why. Its like it started as some virus that just spread uncontrollably, and everyone thinks they're the ones who did it first. I'll purposely not bring khaki or white to the beach to ensure this doesn't go down.

2. Mothers who call their daughters "sis"
I don't know why this makes my skin crawl. My own mother is guilty of this, (and the above). Something about it is just gross. Its like the word Nog.

3. Running into people that I haven't seen since High School.
I'm just fucking awkward to begin with. Not to mention having to think about what's gone down in 10 - 14 years since we've last hung out that I can get across in 5 minutes time. That's what facebook and email, or getting a drink sometime is for.

4. People that say "God Bless You"
Not that I'm against people saying it, necessarily. I'm all for God blessing me. But how do you respond to that? They've already topped you, they've won. There's nothing you can say in response to equal that. You can't say "God bless you, too" Cause you know they know that you've just copied exactly what they said, and that they're thinking "unoriginal." Or "Thank You" because they'll come back with "you're welcome" and your're right back where you started. I believe I'm just gonna start saying "no habla ingles" Save my self the run around.

5. Microsoft Word.
Everyone's got a kid who they think is an artist who set up their print job in Microsoft Word, that ends up looking like dog shit, because they took it beyond the "Word" and decided it needs to be a design program.

7. The thought of having to play cutesy games.
Like Bachelor and/or Bachelorette party shit. Oh look, someone's got dick shaped pasta! Yay.

8. Having to go to church on Easter Sunday.
This one's coming up fast, unless I come up with an escape plan. If you go to church, that's awesome for you. But I NEVER go. Therefore when I (have to) go on Easter, I've got everyone and their cousin running up to me and asking A: "So, you're down from Nashville this weekend? (Besides the fact that I've lived back in Florence for something like 8 years now)" or B: "You gonna come back next Sunday?" Which is a bear trap and they know it. You can't lie in church (despite the fact that I've had preachers look me right in the eyes and tell me that there's no such thing as dinosaurs) and say "Yes", lest you be struck down on the way out. And you can't flat out say "NO" as then there's the convo with Mom and Dad afterwards about why you refuse to go, despite that "Church is really different now, and really laid back"

9. How God Rock bands get off so easy.
Want to be in a successful band that gets to tour, and put out albums, and never get a bad review? Become a Christian Rock Band. It doesn't matter how horrible your band is, as long as there's something about "The Lord" in there, people are unallowed to say anything nasty about how bad it sounds, because "you're glorifying God" or something.

10. People who update Facebook and/or Twitter with the full on intent of people feeling sorry for them and commenting back in a positive manner.
Its cheap, and you need to be drowned for it.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Your face looks like you took make up advice from a drunk chimp.
Your speech patterns are akin to if someone cut out your tongue and replaced it with play-doh.
You constantly look like you're pregnant, even though it should be against the law for you to procreate.
You dress like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo on accident.
Your monosyllabic grunts travel through time, to even where cavemen say "what the fuck is she talking about?"
Your thighs are too big for your corduroy pants you insist on wearing every day, which allows me to hear you coming from a mile away.
Your hair dye job screams accident, but its been the same for 3 years now.
You butcher the English language so well, you should open up a shop, and sell slabs of vowels.
You stare blankly at a copier as if it holds the answers to the universe.
Your pronunciation of your daughter's name "CHRIYUSTEENUH" makes me want to permanently remove my ears by bashing them on the concrete.
You just really deserve to be launched into space, but I don't want advanced life forms to think that there is a planet of you.
You should be locked in a closet with a sexually aggressive panther, but that would be mean to the panther.
Your laugh sounds like a turkey's mating call. But if the turkey has severe head trauma.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

This is a bit of cheating, as I wrote this on another blog a couple of years ago, but reposting it here.

A story so impossible, if it happened to anyone else, you know they would be lying.

Yesterday afternoon I was asked to run some letters up to the post office by one of my bosses. So, I did as he asked. On my way back, I was about to cross the street, I noticed that I had the right of way, and that April Koonce was at one of the red lights. I waved, and she waved, and said hi. As i was saying hi back, all of the sudden...BOP! A chevrolet avalanche popped me in the hip. From what april said, she had stopped, and then decided to go again. I spun around and shouted "WHAT THE HELL?!" I've seen scared faces before, but never have i ever seen someone w/ the fear of god in their eyes. This woman was scared white. I turned back to April and said, "I JUST GOT HIT BY A FUCKING TRUCK!"
Then walked back to my office. April tailed her, and got her license plate. So if i suddenly feel bad, i've got someone to sue.

Seven years ago. That's how long its been since I was last at Mardi Gras. I wouldn't call it a seven year hangover, but I would definitely say "Mardi Gras kicked my ass." When my friends and I first arrived at our hotel, we hit speed bump number one at check in. The room was booked for approximately 1/2 the people who ended up showing up. Thanks to one Mrs. Mitchell and some cash flashing, everyone got in. In to one hotel room. Which was fine, we weren't there for comfort, we were there for three days of unbridled binging. Which we did. The first thing we did when we got in our room was unpack. Not clothes. Vodka. Bottles and bottles of vodka. The counter looked like a well stocked vodka isle in the ABC store. We all made heavy handed drinks and went out to the parade. Which was awesome. We caught beads, and Lord of the Rings rings. Frodo was the grandmaster of the parade or something. After the parade was over, we went back to the room and made more drinks, and headed out to Bourbon Street.

There was a bar that had wall to wall daiquiris. And there it was. 190 OCTANE! 13 Dollars of instant drunk in a glass. Of how many of these I had...I can not say, as I don't remember. 190 Octanes in case you didn't know has 190 proof alcohol. After drinking two, you're hauling more Pure Grain Alcohol than the Dukes of Hazard ever have. Also, the drink is orange like the General Lee. *Side note...look into creating new 190 daiquiri called "General Lee", it will get you drunk enough to run from the cops, and feel like you can jump a barn.*

There's bits and pieces I remember through out the evening. Like a restaurant. An argument.But one bit really stands out. I got separated from my friends very easily, and bourbon street just kind of puked me out of the French Quarter, like the people who were actually puking on Bourbon Street. In my drunken haze, and no knowing how to use my phone properly, I started calling people on my contacts list. Angela came before April. Angela mind you, still lived in Nashville and was most certainly not on this trip. She was a little weirded out why I shouting at her "WHERE ARE YOU....I'M SO FUCKING LOST" Well, I wasn't that lost. Actually, just a block from the hotel. But having never been to New Orleans, and that we were drunk when we left the hotel, I knew general directions. So I set out on my quest that should have taken 5 minutes tops. But ended up taking about two hours.

Earlier that day, as you may remember, unless you've been drinking 190's...you can re read it later...there was a parade. Well, in my quadrouplevision, I thought the barricades were still blocking being able to cross Canal Street. Which they weren't. So I opted to just walk the parade route back to the hotel. Which took forever. I went down dead streets, alleys, you name it. I finally and miraculously found my way back. I'm kind of surprised I didn't end up in Texas.

I got into the room, undressed, and thought...man, it must be 3 in the morning.

It was 8 at night.

If you don't respect the 190 Octanes....they will obliterate you. Which is why the next day April and I got sloshed on them at the mall.

I really can't wait for this year's Mardi Gras. This hotel should be much easier to find, as its right on the parade route.